damned_institute | NIGHTSHIFT 33: M41

Yohji slipped the cigarettes and lighter into his pocket and stood up, stretching slightly. He pulled the knife out from under the mattress and then sighed, running a hand through his hair. He should go see Omi. He wasn't sure how welcome he'd be, but it was something that he should do. He needed to make things work and if they wanted to start being a team again, he needed to make himself change.

He pushed open the door and stepped outside.

[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/392253.html?view=31789117#t31789117)]

'Hacking'? A bit of a change from the 'retro' scenario the hospital seemed to play up. Of course, there was no way to be sure this set of announcements wasn't all an elaborate stage production of some sort. Vlad could look into the apparent announcement that the walls were free for climbing (climbing to run where? Hardly home) later; tonight, he had an actual destination, which was a nice change of pace from the enforced rest of previous nights.

He could change later if it became needed; for now, it might be better for him to maintain the human form and its limitations. At least he was used to its level of strength. Daniel had said the bathrooms over in the 100+ blocks. So only a short walk, and then they could discuss whether or not they were going to start disassembling bathroom fixtures. Assuming Daniel bothered to show, managed to find his way, and managed not to get himself killed along the way even if he didn't become lost or forget the meeting entirely...

[to here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/392253.html)]

Roxas honestly didn't know what to make of the intercom's announcements. It was clear that something important had happened, but who was responsible, how it had happened, and why it had were things he was totally in the dark about. As a result, nothing sounded better then than forgetting the assignment he'd been given for the night and going out to investigate the source of the sounds himself, but as curious as he was about them, he couldn't bring himself to do it. He had people waiting for him.

Vowing to either opt out of taking on an assignment tomorrow night or ask to be assigned to exploring the place, he went to grab his flashlight and radio before heading out into the hall. F1 was sort of out of the way, but at least he had a better idea of how to get there now than he did last night. He'd just need to hurry.

[To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/392469.html?thread=31872021#t31872021).]

After giving Hughes the note and eating dinner, Crawford had waited. He could trust his roommate, he hoped.

The sudden change in when the doors unlocked barely bothered him. He'd come to a conclusion: he'd at least spend the night with Schuldig, one way or another. He'd help him get wherever he could, prove the part of the leader. If he could meet up with Wesker, even better.

He was quick - as soon as his roommate was gone, Crawford pushed the gun and its single bullet under Hughes' bed. Then he strode out of the room with only his flashlight and one of the pipes they'd gotten some time ago and headed for the next block over.

In less than a minute, he'd slipped through the shadows and was there. Crawford knocked on Schuldig's door and waited.

Schuldig opened the door with a smirk. One of the things he dearly loved telepathy was how much time it saved - introductions, explanations, beating around the bush, all such things could be done away with. Or, at the very least, skipped over.

And they didn't have any time to waste, in any case. He grabbed the front of Crawford's shirt and tugged him into the room, closing the door after him.

In hindsight, he'd reflect that Crawford had been unusually attentive and affectionate; neither were exactly normal for him, but at the time he'd simply been absorbed in enjoying himself, had relished it instead of giving it thought. Self-satisfaction easily overwhelmed introspection.

He also, admittedly, was distracted by his idle disappointment that they didn't have longer to enjoy themselves, and when he got up to dress it was with even more reluctance than usual. "Farfarello will be here any second," he observed over his shoulder. "And Wesker wants to meet with me if I'm going to the basement - not sure if we are; I promised Farfarello a kill tonight. If we don't run into something on the way there, I'll have to find him something. But either way, we may as well talk to him."

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/393234.html?thread=31909650#t31909650)]

To those who knew Farfarello, it was obvious that he was hanging on to his self-control by a thread. He couldn't quite stop moving, his muscles making little tics and twitches that were barely noticeable but always a danger sign. Normally Farfarello tended to go from perfectly still to full speed, and generally didn't waste energy on useless movements (unless it involved blood, of course). Now, though, his agitation needed some sort of outlet, and his remaining self-control limited it to those little, uncontrolled movements.

Farfarello's expression was carefully blank, and he didn't say anything at all when he opened the door and entered Schuldig's room--he trusted that his partner and boss would figure out how bad the situation was without any useless talk from him.

Crawford had been dressed and sitting on Schuldig's bed, gaging the ideas of finding Wesker and finding Farfarello something to kill, when the aforementioned psychopath pushed his way in. Twitching, agitated, desperate for a kill - Crawford could recognize those signs anywhere. He hadn't seen them in a while, true, but they were still unnaturally obvious.

If they went to an important room, or one with useful items, they were bound to find something protecting it. The closer they got to the front door would reveal more items, too.

"Where did you plan to meet him?" he asked Schuldig, still keeping his eyes on Farfarello in case the man decided that he would be the best outlet for bloodshed. (With his headache all but gone at this point - so weak as to be brushed aside for more important matters - Crawford could remember his first vision here with eerie clarity. His stomach dropped momentarily - was that what was going to happen tonight?)

Schuldig knew danger signs when he saw them, even if half the time he ignored them as warnings meant for lesser beings. However, he knew better than anyone else that Farfarello's merited noting and prompt action taken.

It was one of those moments when he was able to read someone perfectly without even entering their head.

He'd been shrugging his shirt on as Farfarello entered, and after one good look at him he was already moving towards the door. "The hallway outside the sun room," he replied to Crawford over his shoulder before catching Farfarello's eye and adding, "Wesker," as a one-word explanation to bring him up to speed. "We'll find something for you to kill either on the way there, or on the way to the basement after we meet up with him. If we don't find anything before we get there - " He paused briefly. "I didn't see any monsters in the basement when I was down there. So Wesker and our fearless leader can probably go on ahead, while we find some entertainment on the ground floor."

Farfarello only nodded in response to Schuldig's plan--it sounded about right, and the berserker was reasonably assured that his need for violence was being taken seriously at this point. Any other night and he might have made a snide comment about whether or not they'd be able to tell Wesker and Crawford apart in the dark, but he really didn't have the presence of mind for humour just now.

Crawford nodded briefly, saw that Farfarello was willing to go along with it provided they got him something to kill on the way, and headed for the door.

"Then we should move," he said. They didn't exactly have much time to waste. And he had to have a word with Wesker personally.

Chopper didn't like the announcements over the Den-Den Mushi at night. He really, really didn't. They were scary to begin with, but they were even scarier when he was away from the rest of the crew...

After talking with Zoro earlier, he'd been wanting to test this form, to see what it could do. But he hadn't had time after dinner, since there had been the scary announcement... All he wanted to do was find Nami and Sanji as quickly as possible.

Chopper sped out of the room, not slowing until he reached the end of the hall.

When Hisoka finally woke, not really sure when he had fallen asleep in the first place, the room was already dark. And empty, if the silence was anything to go by -- or maybe his roommate was just sleeping. either way, the boy found himself gathering his equipment by touch alone. Needless to say, it wasn't a quick process, but eventually it got the job done and he was out the door.

[]

Renji was still fully in the grip of the sedatives when Hisoka left the room, and didn't stir. While he made no sound in his sleep, anyone looking at his face could have easily told his dreams weren't at all pleasant.

[from here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/392469.html?thread=32129557#t32129557)]

Lucivar stopped in front of the door knowing Renji to be inside. The man wasn't stirring which was odd. Had he fallen asleep? No, there was something else. His excitement at the impending fight waned slightly as he could sense that the mood inside the room was not what he had been anticipating.

Instead of knocking, Lucivar opened the door and stepped inside, seeing Renji laying on the bed. He shut the door behind him and frowned. Mother Night, he wished that he was able to speak to him on some thread of thought. It would be much easier then to try to wake him when there was something wrong.

Lucivar walked over to the man and put a hand on his shoulder. "Warlord," he said softly, trying to rouse him so as not to startle him.

For a moment, there was no reaction as the touch registered in Renji's sluggish thoughts. He clenched his jaw, teeth grinding together. In his mind, in the nightmare, he was still held by the binding spell, muscles straining but unable to move. Something about the voice was wrong, though, and just one single word...

He used it as something to cling to, to fight his way back toward consciousness. His eyes slowly opened and he looked up blearily. For a moment, all that registered was someone standing over him, someone touching him. He brought one hand around in a sluggish, pathetic swing, just trying to disengage, and did his best to squirm away.

He'd barely moved before he nailed his head on the head of the bed's frame, hard enough to hurt but not to do any real damage. That at least woke him up a bit more.

"Easy," Lucivar replied, not finding the scene amusing in the least. He pulled his hand away as he noticed how Renji shied away from the touch. It didn't take Lucivar long to puzzle out what might be the cause of Renji's change in mood. The only question was how and whom? Perhaps Queens were involved in this place after all.

"How are you faring?" he asked, giving Renji a critical look. "Besides the bump in your head, of course."

Making incoherent noises, Renji half sat up, one hand coming up to prod at the new bump on his head. He recognized Lucivar, though was rather puzzled as to his presence. He was sure there had to be a reason for it, but his mind felt so sluggish.

Sitting up made the fresh bruises - and something else - along his sides twinge, and it was difficult to not stumble across thoughts of how that had happened with his thoughts still so jumbled. A wave a nausea washed over him and he leaned forward, covering his face with his hands for a moment. He took a deep breath and let it out very slowly, trying to regain some semblance of dignity and control.

"'sokay," he mumbled. "Jus' sometimes the... drugs'n'stuff they give me gets me real sick." That was the normal lie he used, so it was somewhat practiced at least.

Beneath his hands, his cheeks felt a little stiff and gritty. Insult to injury, humiliation added on top. He really hoped that no one had noticed.

Lucivar had seen this behavior many times not to mention had experienced more times then he'd like to ever remember. Seeing another Warlord in the same position made his rage burn and it took everything he could to leash his anger. He needed to find out who it was. But that could come later. Right now, what mattered was that Renji survived this without shattering which he seemed on the verge of.

"Can you stand?" Lucivar asked, crouching down in front of him. He wouldn't pry about what happened, not yet anyway. Renji would never tell him. Instead, he let his gaze roam over Renji's form, taking in the pale color of his face and the way he winced when he moved. "It's better if you walk it off," he said sagely. "It might hurt but your muscles won't stiffen."

"Yeah, 'm fine," Renji said. He rose stiffly, favoring one side slightly for a moment as he did. He was still too mentally fuzzy to be annoyed by the unsolicited advice; and Lucivar was right, besides. He began walking slowly around the room. "What're you doin' here?" he asked without looking at him. It was weird. Hisoka was his roommate, not Lucivar, and he couldn't think of a reason now why the man would have come looking for him. Or how he would have found him.

"We arranged to meet tonight," Lucivar explained, uncertain why Renji would forget. "This afternoon we were sparring. We agreed to continue this evening where the staff wouldn't interrupt. Perhaps you hit your head harder then I thought."

Lucivar walked over to Renji and put his hand on his shoulder, looking at the back of his head. "I don't see any blood but that means little when it comes to head injuries."

"Right," Renji said, rubbing his forehead with one hand. When Lucivar touched his shoulder, he stepped away, jerking his shoulder back. "Yeah, that's right. Just... kinda surprised. Since I didn't get around to tellin' you which room I was in or anythin'."

He started pacing around the room again, as much as he could. He was slowly starting to put things mentally in place. "Sorry 'bout that. Didn't... couldn't really get to the bulletin board, 's all." For a moment he hugged his arms close against his chest. "Yeah, a real fight'd be good."

It would be, it really would be. Something clean and definite and honest.

"I followed your thread to your room," Lucivar said, wondering if Daemon had explained him how their jewels worked. His gaze was worried as he watched Renji pace around the room, struggling to make sense of his apologies.

"No need to explain. If you're interested, I'm still up for a fight. You look as if you might need it."

Punching things was as good a catharsis a man could get. Lucivar had been in Renji's position before and losing his head in a fight made the hurt and confusion melt away for a moment.

Renji shot Lucivar an odd look when he mentioned threads; the man certainly wasn't a shinigami. Well, Daemon had some interesting kidou as well, so maybe it was just something they could do. He knew Kurosaki could follow spirit threads, though he wasn't certain if the kid had been able to do it before he'd become the sort of bizarre half-assed shinigami he was.

"Yeah, guess I do," he said. Unless he really concentrated, there was still a hint of slurring to his words. He didn't think he'd give the man much of a fight, but it was still better than nothing, a way to get things back into some sort of order.

And, if he was being honest, he really felt like he deserved to have the shit beaten out of him, anyway, like maybe that would make it feel like his skin belonged to him again. The thought left him feeling strangely light as he turned toward Lucivar and gave the man a ghost of a cocky grin. "C'mon, then."

"Not here," Lucivar said, returning the smile though his was much more natural. "There's not enough room and we're likely to end up bashing our heads against the beds more then each other. I suggest we venture outside. If we move quickly and keep our distance we might be able to avoid any unwanted attention."

"Besides," he continued. "I won't be satisfied until I see the full spectrum of you skills. I can't judge them here in this tiny spce."

That was fair enough, Renji thought, and more walking around would probably do him some good, clear his head before they actually did fight. "Outside or the basement," he said. "Just depends on how much you feel like killin' some dogs." He hadn't yet seen anything nasty in the ballroom, and didn't particularly care if they ended up with an audience. There were so many other prisoners these days that there wasn't anywhere to go that there wouldn't be other people. But either sounded good to him, in the end.

Renji went back over to his bed, still keeping his distance from the other man as best he could, and pulled his sword from its hiding place, followed by his uniform. If he was going somewhere, he might as well be comfortable, and wear something that allowed him to feel a little less disgusted with himself.

He kept his back turned to Lucivar as he pulled over his shirt and quickly slipped the black kimono on. He knew he had bruises, this time, but it was probably dim enough that those particular badges of shame wouldn't be noticed. Or maybe the man would just take them as something earned in an honest fight. He tried not to think about it too hard as he got dressed, exposing as little skin as possible.

Lucivar kept his mouth shut as Renji changed his clothing, his anger bubbling beneath the surface. The signs were all there and it infuriated him to see another Warlord so scarred. The taint should have been pulled from the web but it seemed as though this land was beyond Cat's power.

Once Renji was fully dressed, Lucivar felt it safe to address him once more. "I believe outside would be best," he said gruffly. "We Eyriens prefer open places. Which is the easiest way to the sports field where we fought earlier today?"

Renji shrugged, settling his kimono a little better on his shoulders. "That's okay," he said. "It's probably a nice night out anyway. And it's quicker to get there. Just up the hall and we're out." He picked up his sword, checking to make sure that it was wrapped up well. He wasn't going to fight Lucivar with it, obviously, but he didn't want to be caught without a weapon, not after some of the stuff he'd seen around.

He thought for a moment as he tucked the sword into his makeshift belt. "Want a pipe or two off the bed frame?" he asked. He'd certainly made do with that sort of thing before he'd gotten his sword.

Lucivar nodded and walked over to the bed. He didn't know why he hadn't thought to pull the bed apart but then again, without his jewels and his sticks he mostly relied on his brute strength. "A pipe would be best in case we run into any of those monsters," he said, giving Renji a smile. "I'll finish it with one blow instead of taking the time to dismantle it limb by limb."

Renji chuckled softly. "Yeah, first couple nights I was here, all I had were my fists and those pens. I managed and all, but it just takes so fucking long..."

He went over to his desk and fished the trusty trauma sheers out, then squatted down by the foot of the bed and started working on the screws. He'd done it often enough now that he figured he wouldn't slip too often. "The metal they make the beds out of is shit, but it's better than nothing. Weird thing is, when you wake up in the morning, you'll still have the pipe." He dropped the first screw on the ground and quickly set to work on the next. "And I'll have a whole bed."

"The pens were a nice choice," Lucivar nodded, watching Renji work. He was glad that the man had something to preoccupy him from his thoughts. Hearing him chuckle made Lucivar confident that the man was strong enough to get past the horrors of what had happened to him. "I nearly took Daemon out with a wooden chair my first evening. Not as subtle as a pen but boy, was the Bastard surprised."

The information about the bed was interesting. There must be some sort of time lapse between the last message from the doctor of the evening and the first message of the following morning. Some how, they were all taken back to their rooms and their wounds were bandaged. Now it seemed as though furniture was also returned. It was very puzzling and Lucivar couldn't wrap his mind around it. Not yet, anyway.

Renji gave Lucivar a crooked smile. "I grew up in a rough part of town," he said. "So I learned to improvise when I was young." The smile became something of a grin when he thought about Daemon getting taken out with a wooden chair. It was a funny, funny thought. "That's a good one, too. 's funny here, hearin' people bitch about how they don't have their guns or whatever. Guess they're not smart enough to figure out what else they could use."

He pulled the second metal pipe free of the bed frame and handed it off to Lucivar. He'd managed to cut himself once with the shears. Out of habit more than anything else, he ripped a strip off the sheet still on the bed and wrapped it around his hand.

"Alright," he said. "Let's go."

[to here]

Nightshift. Finally. It felt like dinner would never end. Hikaru was almost at the door by the time the second announcement came on, but this one was so...different that he had to pause and listen. Landel sounded so...young and happy. It was kind of creepy, actually.

But Landel was a pretty creepy fucker to begin with.

So there was something wrong with...the outer walls? Maybe? Well, it didn't concern him. Hikaru had decided long ago that he wasn't a fighter...and he had other things to worry about. Like Tamaki.

[going here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/392253.html?thread=32074045#t32074045).]

Edited 2008-07-12 07:21 (UTC)

John stood up quickly, anxious to begin moving. He looked in his closet and was happy to find that he still had his shoe, belt and long sleeved t-shirt. They were rudimentary weapons at best but still, as last night taught him, any weapon was better then none. He pulled his pillow case off of his pillow and threw the radio, the shirt, pens and the notebook inside. He tied the belt around his waist and picked up the shoe and his flashlight, feeling more ready to venture outside of his room tonight then he did the previous night.

Daemon had said to meet him in the main hallway. John figured he remembered how to get there. He just hoped he didn't get horribly turned around and he stepped out into the hallway, determined to find the main hallway without too much trouble.

[headed here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/392469.html?thread=32275221#t32275221)]

Okay. So it looked like Claude had a new roommate, but he hadn't even breathed a word to him before quickly heading out of the room, apparently anxious to get somewhere. Not that Claude really minded -- he'd been busy with his book, after all. But, really. Would it kill people to be a little more polite around here? His last roommate had been all that different, but he wondered what could have happened to Asch...

Whatever it was, Claude didn't think it was good. It was a little worrisome.

Still, the crazy announcement over the intercom didn't leave much room for him to ponder out those kinds of things. Hackers and computers...this was getting weirder and weirder. And it sounded like they were gonna get a crack at going outside!

It was tempting, but Claude knew he wouldn't be able to make any escape attempts without organizing his buddies first. They needed to stick to the plan tonight, sadly. But maybe they'd get some stuff done, at least...

It hadn't taken him long to change into his normal pants, jacket and shoes. Since the flasks were already in a bag, he didn't have to spend time getting all those together. He just had to remember to move gently so he wouldn't wind up cracking any of them on the way to Ashton's room. But because of that, he figured it'd be best for him to avoid carrying anything extra and leave his clothes rod behind.

After checking over everything one more time, Claude figured he was good to go, and he stepped out into the hallway and headed into the darkness.

((To here (http://community.livejournal.com/damned/392253.html?thread=32325181#t32325181).))

Edited 2008-07-15 08:25 (UTC)

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NIGHTSHIFT 33: M41 - M50 Hallway

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